Tell Me 'No'
by Skalidra
Summary: Jason can't help watching Dick - Nightingale - when he's training. He moves like death in motion, and Jason's brain seems to be hardwired to see that danger as something insanely attractive. The only catch is that Dick doesn't like being watched when he chooses to train alone, and Jason's not that subtle about it. - Earth-3 connected universe, Dick/Jason.


**This is part of a larger continuity of stories. Please consult my profile for the master reading list if you want to read them in order.**

Hello! Alright, so this is another prompts. Requested by KateMintTea, prompt number 22, "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice." Specifically asking for Earth-3, JayDick, from a point in the timeline before Jason's death. So, I wrote their first time. Mmmhmmm. Yep. This happened. Enjoy, darling! I hope you like it!

 **Warnings** for this include: graphic sex, underage sex (Jason is 14, Dick is 16), rough sex, biting, masochism, light sadism, and some dom/sub themes.

(Also, I finished that Young Justice Jason/Roy story. It's glorious, and about 80k. After I get assigned an artist to draw me stuff for it, and the Bang officially ends, the whole thing will go up at once. Really looking forward to what you guys think of that. XD)

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It's like fucking art in motion.

Dick moves like killing is a dance, like all the targets are just props used to show off. I'm not really supposed to be watching it, but in my defense I'm otherwise alone at the Roost and I haven't got anything else to do. Watching the feed of Dick in the combat simulator is really the only entertainment around here, unless I head upstairs and try for something. Or I join him in there.

I raise my hand to my mouth so I can muffle a curse against the back of it, tilting my head back against the chair as my seriously inappropriate reaction to Dick's movements makes itself known. This is starting to get fucking stupid. I _can't_ just pop a boner everytime I see Dick do something deadly or awe inspiring. That's a really great way to get myself killed as soon as he notices; I've seen enough to know that Dick doesn't respond well to come ons he didn't flat out invite.

I'm established as Talon; losing that because I was dumb enough that I couldn't control myself around Nightingale would be a monumentally lame way to go. No matter how understandable it might be. I've seen people lose fingers, limbs, or lives for irritating him, and I don't want to be another person on that list.

I'm really done with this hormonal teenage bullshit. I just want to be able to be anywhere near Dick when he's in a fight, and _not_ have to catch my breath because I can't see anything but the arch of his back. Can't follow anything but those lines of blue that draw the eye to his spine, or down the back of his legs. Can't look away from the way his mouth curls into a smirk or a grin — _not_ a smile — when he's really enjoying himself. Can't ever stop listening when he laughs, or to the sound of his voice when he's leaning in and speaking commands in my ear. Especially that.

 _God_ , his habit of getting way too close is going to get me killed. I mostly learned to ignore it, but then all this bullshit kicked in and now that's a total impossibility. I can never ignore how the warmth of his skin leaks through his suit, or the way his fingers always linger a fraction of a second too long, or the deep husk of his voice when he's barely speaking above a breath. It's a miracle he hasn't noticed my reactions already.

I risk a glance down at the screens — the audio is turned off — and then focus my attention on them. He's gone. I _thought_ he was in the middle of an exercise, not near the end of one, but maybe I miscalculated. Maybe I was wrong.

If he catches me watching him…

A hand clasps over my shoulder, and I spit out a yelped, " _Fuck!_ " and whip around as much as I can. It's Dick leaning over the chair, the fingers of his right hand digging into my shoulder and a smile on his lips. Not a big one, so I'm probably not that badly fucked. Thank god.

"Bruce not in tonight?" he asks, while he pulls back with his hand and pins me against the chair.

I shake my head. "Some meeting; said it was better if he went alone."

Those fingers dig in a little harder, and then he lets me go. "It happens." Of course then his fingers slide higher, up across my throat. It's not a tight enough grip to be dangerous, not yet, but it keeps my head tilted up and back towards him. "Jason, you _know_ I don't like people watching when I train by myself."

It's times like these that I curse my street upbringing, because the first response that snaps into my mind is sarcasm and innuendo, and I don't react fast enough to stop myself from saying it. "Well when you put on a show, and I've got tickets, can you blame me for watching?" My mouth curls in a small grin as I say it, and I try not to show any of the uncertainty in my chest. Dick can be hard to predict.

His fingers tighten on my throat, pulling me up along the chair until I have to brace with my arms because he's holding me too high for my ass to touch the seat anymore. "You weren't invited, little wing." Dick speaks with a smile, but I can read the threat it's supposed to mean. Family benefits; I know when Dick is actually pleased and when he's a step away from gutting someone.

He lets go, and I fall back to the chair. I resist the urge to take in a deep breath, and keep my gaze trained up at him. I'd be a damn liar if I said that his show of power, that the feeling of his hand against my throat, didn't turn me on. God, I'm kind of fucked up. It can't be healthy to get turned on when a killer proves that he's deadly.

I shiver when Dick's fingers trail up the center of my throat, flicking my chin up before he withdraws. My eyes shutter closed for a moment that I pray he either doesn't see, or chalks up to fear. "Why don't you come with me, Jay?"

My eyes snap open, and I have no choice but to turn towards him as he grips the back of the chair and spins it around. "Go with you?" I echo. "For what?" I swallow, and then offer a small grin. "I'm sorry about watching, alright? I was bored, and it's impressive. Should have asked first."

Dick ignores my small rant; my attempt at getting out of a beating I'm almost sure is coming. "I could use a chance to cool down," he says, and I'm almost relieved that it's a smirk that curls his mouth, not a smile. "A little relaxation after a good workout. Come on, come over to the mats, little wing."

Well, you don't refuse an order from Nightingale. Just because he's not wearing his mask doesn't mean that he isn't wearing the persona just like a costume.

I get up, following Dick towards the enclosed training area. We've got a more open one too, but Dick tends to prefer sparring where he can push people up against walls. No risk of going over the sides of one of the Roost's levels either.

That's the first thing Dick does when we're both inside, gripping me by the upper arm and swinging me around, slamming me up against the wall. It doesn't feel like a fight just yet, so I hold off on reacting. Or, reacting in any kind of a violent way. I _really_ can't control the reaction of my body as he crowds me against the wall, the fingers of his hand digging into my arm, and the other hand rising to my throat. My breath catches, and I sink back against the wall a bit to try and make sure that Dick doesn't get close enough to feel that I'm just a little hard.

His thumb swipes across the front of my throat, the glove covering it tugging a bit at my skin. It flicks over my Adam's apple, presses in just enough to make my breath catch a second time, and then draws to the side. I swallow as he cups the side of my throat, thumb pushing up to hook underneath the corner of my jaw and tilt my head back. Like I wasn't already focused on him.

I stay _very_ still.

Dick is studying me, but luckily just my face. It's a special kind of vulnerability to have him all dressed in his suit, and me only in basic workout clothes. Finally he smirks. "Can't resist watching me, can you, Jay?"

I swallow again. "You're a hell of a thing to watch," is what comes out of my mouth.

"I know." His answer is instant, but then his mouth curls in a smirk, and he leans a little closer to me. Barely inches away. "But I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice, Jay." My heart almost stops, and I know he can feel the sudden burst of fear that slides down my spine in a chilling wave. I know because there's an immediate sharpening of his gaze, like he's picking me apart for weaknesses. Like I'm just prey.

"I'm sorry, Dick. I know, I shouldn't, but I am so not in control of myself and the way you _move_ is just—"

I freeze up when his mouth brushes across mine. My babble stops mid-sentence.

"So there's _another_ way to make you be quiet," he comments, with more than a little amusement to his tone. "Alright, little wing. You sure you want to play with fire?"

The words come on and then die on my tongue as I stare at him, and then my eyes snap shut when his thumb releases the upwards press of my jaw and his hand returns to gripping my throat. I suck in a sharp breath, and it's so _wrong_ that the threat of his hand is just another point adding to the curl of arousal in my gut. I grit my teeth together, and then his hand squeezes and the breath leaves me in a rush that I'm ashamed to say is definitely a groan. I open my eyes after that, and find Dick looking at me with something between amusement and interest.

It's the look I've seen him give particularly stupid gang members before he tears them to pieces, and I can't help the shudder that slides down my spine.

Dick's mouth curls into a smirk, and then he's leaning in and kissing me. Real this time, more than just a brush of his lips. He holds my head up with his grip on my throat, lips pressing down over mine. The sharp bite to my lower lip makes me gasp, and then his tongue is in my mouth. His other hand lets go of my arm. I can feel his fingertips sliding down my side as his tongue slides through my mouth, and then I have to gasp again when that hand lowers and grips me through my sweatpants.

Dick pulls back, hands staying in place but his mouth drawing back so I can breathe. I tilt my head a little farther back, squeezing my eyes tightly closed for a moment before I open them again. My lip stings a little bit, and his grip on my throat is a little too tight to be comfortable, but I'm starting to think that in my own fucked up world those might be _good_ things. There's a tiny bit of fear there, sure, but there always is when I'm around Dick. Being around him is always dangerous, but I'm pretty sure that's half of what makes me so damn attracted.

Denying that the grip on my throat is what's making me hard would make me a fucking liar.

"I don't need an answer, Jason," Dick murmurs, "but if this isn't what you want, you need to tell me. All you have to say is 'no;' I'll stop."

I swallow, almost moan at the feeling of his hand pressing against the movement, and give a second shudder. "Dick," I manage, "I haven't…. That was—" My first kiss, but the words stubbornly refuse to leave my throat. His hand loosens a little bit, and then something _lights_ in his eyes that I can't identify. But it's still interested, and it doesn't feel immediately life threatening.

I _do_ moan when his hand squeezes my cock, my eyes shuttering for a moment. Then the hand at my throat is forcing my head up a few inches, and I look back up at him. "Will I be your first, little wing?" Dick asks, with just a hint of teasing to his tone. "Was that the first time someone's kissed you?" I pull my gaze away from Dick, hands clenching at my sides, and then he gives a reprimanding sound. It immediately makes me jump to attention, _damn_ combat reflexes, and I focus on him. This time, he _smiles_. "Oh, you're _mine_ tonight, Jay. I can't pass up an opportunity like that."

The smile is what makes me tense up, and I can't seem to relax as he pushes forward. One knee shoves my thighs open, and then I'm split around his legs, my crotch pressed up against his. All I can feel is the solidity of the cup covering him, but that really doesn't matter. Not with how close he is, and the way his hand strokes me once and then lets go. His hand squeezes my throat again, and my jaw clenches for just a second.

"Jason," Dick whispers, calling my attention. "One time privilege, because you're family. Do you want me to be gentle, take you upstairs and into a bed for your first time? If you don't, then I'm going to take you right here, up against this wall." He smirks, the fingers of his free hand trailing up the center of my chest. "At least to start. Might pull you down to the mats for a second round, if you're in any condition."

I stare at him, trying to at least tamp down the arousal burning in my gut. Not that it works. Especially not with that image in my head of Dick fucking me against the mats. He waits for me to work things out, and then to speak.

"Gentle isn't you."

His eyes widen a fraction, and I can recognize the surprise as it flicks across his face. Then satisfaction follows on its heels, and Dick leans in and kisses me again. I recognize it as a reward. "No," he agrees, his voice quiet between our mouths, "it's not. Don't worry, little wing. I know what I'm doing; I'll take care of you."

I give a quiet sound of want, and then manage to spit out the words on my tongue. "I trust you."

He draws back a little bit, and I open my eyes to meet his gaze. "Sure that's a good idea, little wing?" There's a playful edge to his smirk, and I completely miss the knife in his free hand until it's slicing up the center of my torso and splitting the shirt in two. It draws a gasp from me, but I force myself into stillness as he flicks it to one side and slices it across the short sleeve, and then repeats it on the other side. The only thing still holding the shirt up is the fact that I'm leaning on it.

I swallow when the blade presses flat against my ribs, but meet his gaze. "You're scary as shit sometimes," I admit, then correct myself. "Most of the time. But you're family; you won't hurt me unless you have to. Or want to." I manage a small twist of my lips. "I _think_ I can take that."

He watches me for a moment, and then he leans in and kisses me again. Another reward, I'm sure of it. By the time he pulls back to look at me, that knife is gone from his hand. "Good." The grip on my throat eases off, and then both of his hands rise to cup my jaw and bring me in to meet the descent of his mouth. The roll of his hips against mine makes my breath catch, and I can feel him smirk into the kiss.

"You can touch me, Jay," he murmurs.

I almost leap to take him up on that, and then clench my hands into fists and hold back. "Are the defenses on your suit off?" I ask, wary for a damn good reason. I remember the first time Dick asked me to unzip his suit for him, he left the defenses on and shocked the hell out of me. My suit took the worst of it, but it still knocked me on my ass for awhile.

Dick laughs, and then his teeth nip at the corner of my mouth. "Yes, Jay. They're off." At least he's never lied to me about them being deactivated so far, just laughed at my mistake when I touched him without asking first.

I carefully raise my hands, touching his sides. I still expect to get shocked for a moment, but after a tense second of waiting I decide it's not going to happen. They really are off. I slide my hands gingerly up his sides. The sensation of the suit under my fingers is familiar, but I've never just touched it like this. Usually I touch in the middle of a spar, or some kind of acrobatics or combat exercise. Actually touching Dick without his explicit permission is something I was never stupid enough to do, let alone touch him like this.

He pushes a little closer, pinning me between him and the wall, and then slides his hands back into my hair. I go with it when he tugs my head back, and then my breath catches in my throat when his mouth lowers to my throat. He presses nipping kisses down the side of my throat until he apparently finds a spot he likes, and then I have to groan when he closes his lips and teeth around that spot and sucks. It's hard enough to be a little painful, but I really don't give a damn. It's _good_.

His right hand lets go of my hair and slides down. I feel his gloved fingertips trace down the back of my neck, along my shoulder, and then around my side and to the small of my back. There his hand presses flat, holding pressure to keep me held up against him. When his mouth finally pulls back I'm absolutely certain it's left one hell of a mark.

"Come on," he murmurs, raising his head so he can say it right into my ear. "You don't have to be shy, Jay. No one's around but you and me." His hips roll forward against mine, and I choke out a groan and tilt my head towards Dick's. He takes my nonverbal cue, pulling back just enough to kiss me. His tongue takes immediate advantage of my loose jaw, slipping between my teeth in what I recognize as a mimicry of actual fucking.

Then he's pulling away, hands releasing me. I almost voice the protest at the tip of my tongue before I open my eyes, and before I see that he's only stepped back a few inches, and that he's in the middle of undoing the catches of his gloves. I swallow. He shoots me a smirk as he peels the gloves off his hands, dropping them to the floor. It leaves his skin bare to about halfway up his lower arms, and I watch him flex each of his hands in turn. I don't think I've ever really _looked_ at Dick's hands before, but I am now. His fingers are long, callused from the hours he spends on acrobatics, and there are some small nicks of scars here and there but nothing big enough to call attention to them.

Those hands are deadly; I've seen it. Even without anything sharp or poisonous to use, those hands are weapons to themselves. It's probably all kinds of _wrong_ that I look at them, picture them around my throat, and it only adds to the desire in the pit of my stomach. That can't be even remotely healthy.

Dick steps forward, reaching out to trace his fingers down my sides. I stare at him as he watches me, and then have to swallow when his gaze rakes down my chest, at the same time as his thumbs hook into the waistband of both my sweatpants and the boxers underneath. He gives me one single second, distracted by his dazzling, _wicked_ smirk, before pushing them down my hips. I draw in a breath at the cool air as both articles of clothing fall to pool around my ankles. Dick holds my gaze for a couple of seconds, and then slowly, deliberately, his gaze lowers. I shudder, but don't move. His fingers are light on my hips, and I have to tip my head back to get some kind of control back.

His fingers rise to grip either side of my waist, and then he's squeezing, calling my attention back. "Step out of those," he orders, and I snap to obey. I kick my way out of the pants and boxers, getting them off to the side. I can feel the flush in my cheeks, there because I'm totally naked in front of Dick and he's still almost completely covered; neck to toes.

I swallow when his fingers slide up my sides, almost light enough to tickle, and then reverse direction. I have to lower my gaze when his right hand pulls back, and I watch him dig into one of the hidden pockets in his suit. He retrieves what looks to me a bit like a packet of sauce, but as it twists between his fingers I can read the word on the side of it. The flush steals a little bit more of my blood, somehow.

Lube.

Dick smirks, and then my breath freezes in my fucking throat because he sinks to his knees in front of me. He's right in front of my crotch, and as he leans in my eyes widen. No way, right? Dick wouldn't do something that subservient, would he? He wouldn't—

His lips press to the side of my cock, and he flashes a smirk up at me. I can't move, can't _breathe_. Then his right hand wraps around my left ankle, and he's standing, dragging my leg with him. I stay still and shocked for a moment, but come back to the world when he forces my leg to straighten all the way out as he rises. Until it's pointing forward and up, and he's standing in front of me, still gripping my ankle. Then he shifts forward, and I wince as my leg gets pushed towards my body with it.

"Fuck, Dick, I'm not that flexible."

"Hush," he murmurs, and I make a small noise of pain as he presses up against me, and pushes my leg up against the length of my body so I'm more or less doing a vertical split. "You can take it for me, can't you, Jay? Just relax into the stretch." He lets go of my ankle, but he's pressed close enough that his weight keeps my leg held up between us.

It _hurts_ , but it's the ache of stretching, not the sharp pain of something pushed too far. It's not going to seriously fuck up my leg. I breathe through it for a moment, and then give a small nod. I can take it.

I get a hum of approval from Dick for my agreement, as his hand slides down my leg. I barely even have to balance, not with him pressed so close, and that's good because I don't think I could balance and take his touches at the same time. The curl of his hand against my thigh, and then down on my hip, is way too distracting. The press of his mouth to mine is even more so, at least until the hand slides back along my ass. I twitch and then give a groan as his fingers dip into places no one's ever been before, and places I didn't think were that damn sensitive.

I blindly reach out to touch him, and get my hands wrapped around his torso and pressed against his back. It's safer than anything else I could be doing, and I still have this little voice in the back of my head that says if I move too fast, or if I do anything too daring, Dick's going to snap and make me bleed for it. I'm not in the least bit crazy enough to think I'm remotely in control here, and I'm not going to press the boundaries.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn't pull away from me in the slightest. His left hand releases its loose grip on my other hip, and then slides around my back to join the other. "Know how this works, Jay?" he murmurs, lips brushing mine as he speaks.

The proud part of me wants to immediately snap that _yes_ , I _do_ , but I pause instead. Pause long enough to beat that part down and admit, "Only vaguely."

I know more about fucking between opposite genders — a lot more — but extensive as a street education is, people didn't usually talk about gay sex in much more than crude insults. It wasn't a safe leaning to have, and asking about the actual details of it would have gotten me beaten black and blue, if I was lucky. So I know the basic idea, but beyond that I haven't got a clue. The basic idea was enough to fantasize about.

I can feel the edges of Dick's grin, and hear it in his voice when he speaks. "I'll walk you through it." His hands draw back a bit, and I hear the crack and rip of cheap plastic. "That's lube. Whatever porn tells you, you don't fuck someone without it." I can feel the slide of his fingers between my cheeks, slippery and wet, and my breath comes fast as one rubs against the outside of me. "Relax." He says it with a brief kiss to the corner of my mouth. "You start with one finger." It pushes, and I force my muscles to ease out even as my head tilts back a little bit at the weird sensation. It's not painful, but it's strange and it's not something I'm even remotely used to.

Dick's mouth falls to my neck, pressing small, biting kisses along my skin. At the same time his finger moves, sliding in and out as far as it can at that angle. It feels absurdly long, but I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me. It doesn't feel bad either, there's definitely something in the slide of his finger against sensitive nerve tissue that's interesting, and moving towards actually feeling really good. There's also some mixed worry and anticipation in my gut, because I've only caught a glimpse or two while he was changing, but Dick's a lot bigger than just the one finger.

I feel his left hand slide back around my hip, worming between us. I moan when he wraps it around me, the feeling of his fingers against my cock completely new and _definitely_ good. He laughs against my throat, then bites down particularly hard for a moment. _That_ feels good too.

"You don't move to a second until they're pushing back against you," he tells me, and I _swear_ I'm paying attention past the slow twist of his hand. "I'm going to get you off first, Jay, while I work you open for me." His voice is a low promise, and I shudder, tighten my grip on his back, and then swallow.

"Why?" I manage to ask in a gasp. I can feel his lips curl into what I think is the safety of a smirk.

"You'll recover fast enough." His nose nudges against my throat, teeth grazing as he speaks. "Coming will relax you, which will make it easier for me to get you open. First time benefits, little wing. There's a difference between not being gentle, and doing damage. You need to feel how it's supposed to be before I push any harder." Both hands pick up their pace in sync, and I arch a little bit against the unforgiving wall. A tight sound of pleasure makes it out of my mouth. "Trust me, Jay. When I'm ready, and _you're_ ready, I'll fuck you hard enough to make you scream." I choke just a bit at that _idea_ , and I can feel the grin against my throat. "But I might settle for just making you shout my name for tonight. We'll see."

I close my eyes and drop my head, burying it in against his shoulder. I can still faintly feel the ache of my stretched out leg, but it's taken background to everything else Dick's doing to me. To the slide of that finger, the hand around my cock, and the pressure of his teeth against my throat. God, I don't think there's going to be a clear spot of skin on my neck by the time we're done here. There's no way I'm possibly going to be able to hide this.

His suit is a little rough against my skin, just enough to remind me that he's mostly still covered. I know that it's not likely that he can actually feel much of my grip with the armor in the way, and that makes me want to tear it off his back and get my hands on his skin. It's only the thought of what he might do to me if I try to strip him that holds me back, and it's only just enough of a threat. The zipper is at the back of his neck, and it's only a small reach from where my hands have settled near his shoulderblades. It would be so easy, and then I'd be able to touch his skin.

My right hand slides up, and I clench it into a fist and force myself to stop. I'm _not_ going to invite him actually hurting me, not with how damn good all of this feels. I settle for muffling my sounds against his shoulder, grinding my forehead against the suit. It only keeps me still for a second though, and then I give a small surrender to the desire in my stomach. I unclench my hand and slide it up his shoulder and the back of his neck. I _don't_ reach for the zipper to the suit, but instead bring my hand higher and carefully curl my fingers through some of Dick's hair.

I can feel the slight pause in the press of his mouth, but he doesn't stop me. My moment of wariness passes, and I flex my fingers in his hair and enjoy the feel of it. Common sense, and survival instinct, stops me from either pulling at it, or pushing against the back of his scalp to keep him against my neck. I just let myself grip the strands and enjoy how it feels between my fingers. Dick's got soft hair.

His teeth nip a little harder at the next bite, and I'm pretty sure I recognize it as a small warning. He still doesn't say anything, and the pace of both of his hands is steady. Steady, but fast, and _just_ right. It's dragging me towards an edge faster than I'd like to admit.

Dick must be able to feel the heavier note to my breathing, or the restrained twitches of motion that are all I can manage of bucking forward while my one leg is raised between us, because he hums his approval against my skin. "That's right," he whispers in my ear, voice low and personified fucking _sin_. "Give it to me, Jay. Let me get a taste of what it's going to be like later." Another hum, a small rock of his hips in against mine. I moan into his shoulder. "When you come on my cock, what's it going to feel like inside you?"

" _Fuck_ ," I gasp. "Dick, _god_. I—" I'm bucking forward, the coil snapping low in my gut and rebounding as I cry out. I jerk as much as I can, trapped between the wall and Dick's body, while my left hand rakes down the material of his suit. I shake, my mind grinding to a halt underneath the sensation of him continuing to stroke me through my release.

Until finally I go more or less limp against him. His hands are still moving, but slow and gentler than they were. I loosely clutch at his hair and his back, breathing hard and letting the press of his body hold me up.

He lets go of my cock, and his hand grips my waist instead. I can feel the wetness on his fingers, and it makes me twitch and my breathing catch, which is about all the reaction that I can manage. He gives a small laugh into my ear, and then his finger slips almost all the way out of me. All I can do is give a quiet groan as he presses two of his fingers back into me. I can feel the slight stretch, but it's not painful. He was right; I'm so boneless right now that tensing up is nearly impossible, and his fingers slide smoothly inside of me. Now, it feels pretty good.

"Can I just lean on you?" I mumble against his shoulder, twisting my head to lie horizontal so I'm facing his neck.

Another small laugh. "That's fine, Jay," he answers, lips pressing just below my ear. "Just sit back and enjoy; I'll take care of you."

I take him at his word. It's easy to relax into the solidity of his body, to let myself drift in sensation and lazy satisfaction. I stay that way for a long while, with his fingers rolling in and out of me and his mouth still working away at my neck. Slower now, with less of an edge of teeth and more hot, wet suction. The flicker of his tongue against my skin is unlike anything else I've ever felt.

Dick's right about something else too. By the time I come fully back to myself, and he's got three fingers in me, I'm starting to get hard again too. That might have something to do with the fact that his fingers are curling inside me at the end of every stroke, and barely brushing something that's lighting a dull but persistent pleasure at the base of my spine. I'm not really sure what it is, but it feels _damn_ good and I'm not going to stop him. I've wanted something like this for months, and I'm not going to fight him now just because I don't really understand the feelings. It's good, what else matters?

When I tighten my grip on his back, and give my first rock forward against him, his teeth graze a little harder against my skin. Then he gives a sound of approval into my ear, quickly followed by, "There we go, little wing. All hard and opened for me, aren't you?" He doesn't wait for me to string together some kind of answer.

His fingers pull out of me — I give a moan into his suit — and then he's carefully guiding my leg down from between us. Muscle twinges from the final relief from the stretch, but it's not enough to pry a reaction out of me. Not when so many other things are demanding my attention. Like the strange way that I feel empty, and I keep expecting to clench down on his fingers but there's nothing there to grip. Like the way I _want_ something there to stop that slightly uncomfortable feeling.

My foot touches the ground, and then I have to pull my head up as Dick draws away from me. I almost protest, until I realize that he's moving to strip out of his suit. Then I clench my jaw down to keep myself silent and just _watch_. He smirks, like he knows exactly what was going through my head. It wouldn't surprise me if he did.

I watch him reach back and pull the zipper down — I can hear it, even if I can't actually see it splitting open over the line of his spine — and then slide his arms out of the upper portion. I get lost staring at his chest for a few moments, at the defined muscle and the patterns of old scars I'll probably never know the stories behind. He's bigger than me, and taller too. It comes with the two extra years and change he's got on me, and the longer time he spent as Talon, and then as Nightingale. It's one hell of a thing to live up to. Big shoes to fill.

My thoughts derail when he leans down and unhooks the snaps that keep the inbuilt boots on, and then slides his suit down his hips and to the floor. I'm not at all ashamed to say that I stare at his cock as he straightens up and steps out of the discarded clothing. The patch of black curls around it is slightly wild looking, and his cock extends from the center, pointed more or less straight at me. He's hard, and it's just a little intimidating to think of that inside me. Fingers are one thing, but that's an entirely different ball game. It makes me swallow, but it also definitely makes me draw in a shallow breath in desire. I _really_ want this.

Dick steps up against me, and I don't even try to swallow the moan as his skin slides against mine. " _Dick_ ," I manage to say, and even to my own ears it sounds like a plea. So I let the second word leave my lips too. " _Please_."

His hands touch either side of my waist, and I can feel the hard ridge of plastic in his right one. It scratches slightly against my skin, but I don't look down to find out what he's holding. Not when he's leaning down to kiss me, and his hips are pressing flush into mine and pushing us together. I meet his kiss as much as I can, my hands lightly touching his chest. When he doesn't stop me, or shake me off, I touch a little harder and explore the ridges of his muscle. I've got muscle, but it's not the kind of steel definition that his is. It's kind of awe-inspiring.

His hands slide down over my hips, and then he leans down a bit, breaking the kiss, and wraps his hands around my thighs. I give a shallow gasp as he lifts me up, tugging my legs up and wrapping them around his waist. I tighten my thighs out of instinct, wrapping my arms around him and gripping the back of his shoulders to hold myself up. Not that I need to; he's pinning me between his weight and the wall and I couldn't fall even if I let go completely. Still, the grip gets me a smirk from him, and what I think is an approving flex of his fingers against my skin.

"Just like that, Jay," he murmurs. "Don't worry about hurting me, I can take it." He shifts forward, and I gasp again because I can feel his cock slide up underneath me. It nudges against where he's worked me open, but doesn't slide in. Slowly, I feel him ease his grip on my thighs and let go. My grip and his weight keeps me up.

I can hear the rip of plastic, but then he's leaning down against the side of my throat he hasn't worked over yet, and his teeth are pressing in. High, up below my jaw and forcing my head back against the wall to give him room. I swallow, digging my fingers into his shoulders as I feel the brush of his arms along the outside of my hips. I flick my eyes closed, trying to concentrate on something other than the hot, hard brush of him against my ass. It's a total loss. All of this is new, but _that_ feeling is the hottest one so far. The feeling of his cock pressing along that stretch of skin between my balls and my ass, the slight slide as his weight just barely shifts, the heat of him. That's a feeling I hope I'll remember forever.

I can feel the brush of his fingers down below, but the teeth at my neck keep me distracted, as does the feeling of his waist beneath my thighs and where my heels are digging slightly into the small of his back. Dick gives a small sound into the skin of my neck, twitches a bit and presses up against me. Then his hands are wrapping around my hips, and he's pulling me to a different place, a little higher on his waist and at a sharper angle against him. His teeth let go, and I feel the brush of his nose against my jaw before his breath is rushing out against my ear. Hot, slightly damp, and _god_ does it make me squirm a bit.

"Relax as much as you can, Jay," Dick whispers in my ear, and _fuck_. His voice is dark and hot; it sounds like he's about to eat me alive and it drives a breathy sound I refuse to call a whimper from my mouth. But I know he's being serious, so I take in a deep breath, and force myself to relax as I let it go. Dick groans in my ear, and that _almost_ undoes all my work.

Then he's shifting, pulling me down again by the grip on my hips. I get almost no warning before I feel him pressing up against me, and then pushing inside. My back arches at the feeling, my head tossing back against the wall as I dig my nails into his skin. It's _amazing_. His fingers tighten on my hips, and I try to breathe through the feeling of him sliding inside of me — it feels like fucking _miles_ — but I just can't. Then suddenly his hips are pressing up against me, and I can feel his jaw clench as he shoves a breath out through his teeth. It takes a second for me to remember to inhale, and when I do it's a small, gasping sort of sound.

Dick's fingers flex on my skin, and then slide back and grip my ass instead. It's a hard press, and I expect him to drag me up but he doesn't move. He just works his jaw, breathing evenly — maybe a little strained — and stays still. Out of nowhere, my mind _rejects_ that idea.

" _Don't_ ," I manage to gasp, still in the middle of trying to breathe right. "Dick, _god!_ "

I can feel the tension ripple through his torso, and then he's leaning back a touch and I wrench my head down to meet him. He looks just a little concerned. "What is it?" he demands, grip tightening for a brief moment. "Jay, _tell_ me."

I lose myself in his eyes for a moment — that fucking perfect, impossible bright blue — before I pull myself together. Combat training has to be useful _sometimes_. "Want _you_ ," I press. My mind doesn't want to form full sentences, but I make do. "Gentle isn't _you_." I repeat it again, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment as it falls from my lips. "Gentle isn't you."

When I open my eyes again Dick is staring at me. Like the way he did when I told him that the very first time, and said I didn't want him to take me upstairs to a bed. Surprise, until it melts into something between heated desire and a sharp smile that looks _very_ dangerous.

"Alright, little wing," he breathes out, barely above a whisper. "You got me."

He presses hard into me, and then his mouth is on mine and his tongue is shoving between my teeth. His fingers tighten hard enough to bruise, and it feels so damn _good_ that I moan against him. He fucks my mouth for a few moments, forcing my head back against the wall, and then draws back. Only far enough to sink his teeth into my lower lip and tug, and that tightens my thighs around his waist. He lets go, and then the breath rushes out of me as he tugs me up by the grip on my ass. It almost feels like he's going to slip out of me, but before I can even really worry about it he's yanking me back down. The upwards slam is enough to make me cry out, and I don't know if it's pleasure or pain but I know I want _more_.

His forehead presses to mine, and I can feel the breath rushing against my face. He apparently takes me at my word, because he doesn't give me even a fraction of a second of rest after that first thrust. I can only cling to him and try to weather it. I clench my jaw, try not to dig my nails too hard into his shoulders, and give up any idea of relaxing. I know there's pain in the mix, I know that the force he's using is going to leave me with bruises, but something in me is clicking into place and I'm realizing that's _good_. I'm realizing I _like_ the pain.

I'm not sure if that's fucking amazing or just me being even more fucked up than I thought I was.

Dick pulls to the side, biting at my neck for a moment — not _fucking_ hard enough — before raising his mouth to my ear. " _Take_ it," he hisses, and I tilt my head back and give half a dry sob of sound. "So tight and _hot_ , little wing. You feel so _damn_ good."

A cry leaves my throat, and I arch as far as I can, still trapped between him and the wall. The shirt's fallen now, and my back rubs against the concrete with every downwards yank. " _Please_ ," I beg, dragging my hands across his back and feeling the power in his shoulders and his spine. "Dick, _please_."

He makes a sound of satisfaction in my ear, a _vicious_ one. "I'm going to _fuck_ you until you shout my name, Jason. Until you _scream_. Until you're _mine_."

I shake at his words, at the strength in his thrusts, at the declaration of _ownership_. God I'm _fucked_ up. God I _love_ it. "Dick," I moan, my voice a lot more shaky than I thought it would be. "Harder. _More_."

I can feel the sharp stutter of his rhythm. Then he moans, _shoves_ into me, and finally laughs into my ear. Breathlessly, with sharp amusement and that same dangerous edge. "Oh, _Jason_." His teeth nip at the lobe of my ears, he _slams_ into me with enough force my thighs ache. "Did I find a _masochist?_ Do you _love_ this?"

His right hand tightens, and then his blunt nails _rake_ across my ass and up my thigh. I cry out, arching because I'm almost positive his nails have ripped through my skin in at least a few spots. It burns, it stings, it _hurts_ , and I push my breath out in a keen because it winds the fire in my gut higher with every throb of the abused skin. A masochist? God — fuck — _maybe?_ I didn't think— I had no _idea_ , but the word sits right in my head. It slots neatly into a place that used to be empty, and explains why I _like_ how dangerous Dick is, how strong he is, and how his hand fits around my throat or the way his nails and teeth dig into my skin.

"You _do_ ," he whispers in my ear, and then it's like a switch flicks on somewhere deep inside him.

His teeth are digging at my throat, almost hard enough to break skin, and the nails on his right hand are raking across my thigh, my hip, up my side. I didn't think it was possible but he manages to thrust _harder_ into me, hips slamming into the back of my thighs with every stroke. I shake, my hands gripping his back and my spine curved in a constant arch, one way or another. I can never quite tell if I'm arching towards him and throwing my head back, or curving my back forward and pressing my face into his neck and his shoulder. I just know it hurts, and I can barely breathe for how good it feels, and the air I do manage to get comes out of me in whatever sound can get past my teeth and my throat.

I moan his name, and pleas, and curses. I can feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes, but I don't know any way to vent that feeling but to tremble. The left side of me is being covered in scratches, and _god_ it's amazing. I sink into some kind of alternate state, almost like meditation. I know I'm crying out, moaning, shaking, but it comes to me like it's through a thick fog. It feels _incredible_. It's like I'm floating out above everything else, and all I can feel is the pleasure, the touch of his hands, the press of his mouth, every slide of his cock inside me. The pain is still there, but it's a rich note at the back of the pleasure, like the satisfaction of an aching muscle after a good workout.

He hisses things in my ear between his bites. Praising how I feel, how I sound, how well I'm taking what he's giving. It's just a bonus on top of the feelings, in the weird mental state that I'm in.

Maybe I should be worried that I'm only sort of conscious for all of this, and that I don't think I could react if something bad happened, but honestly I don't care. It feels _good_ , and _I_ feel good, and it's my first time and god _fucking_ damnit I deserve just a few minutes of feeling like this, don't I? I can let myself be unguarded and hazed out just for right now, right?

I can't even feel what I know should be some kind of embarrassment at how fast I careen towards my second release. I just know that I take his thrusts, and the dig of his teeth, until I can't anymore. Then I'm arching, _tears_ slipping down my face as I cry something that sounds vaguely like _Nightingale_ to my ears, and coming between us. He doesn't even have to touch me.

He slows after that, catching my mouth in a kiss that's gentler than I expect, even if his teeth close over my tongue for a moment.

I'm still floating high when he pulls out of me. I stay that way as he carefully takes me to the ground, and it's only when he twists me onto my knees and my arms have to come loose from his back that I realize I think I raked his back hard enough to carve scratches into it. He doesn't seem to care, and once he gets me on my knees on the mats, with my face and shoulders against the ground because I can't summon the concentration to brace my arms, he pushes back inside and continues fucking me. He's leaned down over me, and his teeth tear bruises into my shoulders, the back of my neck, my spine, every _single_ inch of skin that he can reach with his teeth.

I might be floating high, and barely cognizant, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy every second of it.

Finally his thrusts turn desperate, ragged, and then he's shouting his release into my back and grinding into the back of my thighs like he wants to sink inside my skin. I can feel the throb of him, but there's not any sensation that I would relate with him coming inside of me. That's about the moment I put together that the original rip of plastic was a condom, and that Dick was _safe_ about all of this, no matter how rough we were. It's a sharp realization that cuts through the fog of whatever the hell this disconnected state is, even though it isn't enough to bring me back down to Earth.

Dick pulls out of me, and guides me to lie on the mats with a care that's totally opposite how rough he's been so far. His touch is gentle, his mouth is gentle, and when he lies down next to me and presses up against my back, his arms curling around my torso and pulling me close to him, that's gentle too.

"Easy," he murmurs into my hair. "Come back to me, Jay."

Slowly, I pull myself far enough out of the fog to weakly grip at his arms. "Dick?" I ask, my voice rough and maybe just a little hoarse from all of the sounds he tore from my throat.

"I've got you," he promises, every inch of him hot and solid. It's comforting. "Tell me what you need, Jay."

"You," is the only answer that comes to mind. "Just stay."

He does.

He strokes his fingers across my skin, presses soft kisses to the back of my neck, and keeps himself pressed up against me until I've climbed my way back to consciousness. And until I've summoned the energy and the mind to squeeze the muscle near one of his elbows and whisper, "I'm alright."

Dick gives a soft laugh into my neck, arms tightening around me for a second. "I wasn't expecting masochism from you, Jay," he murmurs in my ear, as his thigh slides between mine and up against me. "Did you know?"

I manage a shake of my head, as his right hand slides down along my side. Then his fingers are slipping around to my back, and finally low enough that he can sink them back inside me. I think the sound I make is half of a protest, but it only lasts for a moment. It feels like an exploration, and the press of his mouth at my shoulder is just as careful as the lazy, slow roll of three of his fingers.

"Dick," I moan, curling my hand against the mat, "I can't—"

"You can," he interrupts. "And even if you can't, _I'm_ going to fuck you again, little wing." The three fingers curl down, pushing deliberately against whatever it is inside me that feels so good, and I flinch just a bit at the sensation. " _After_ I've rolled you onto your knees and taken my time exploring all the fun, _sensitive_ things down there." I'm sure that the sound that leaves my throat is best called a whimper, and I shudder against him.

 _God_ , that sounds good. Right now I'm a little painfully sensitive, but once that eases down? Or, maybe even if it doesn't. Maybe this pain can be good too. I can almost feel myself slipping back towards that weird disconnected state of mind.

"Are you going to tell me 'no,' Jay?" There's no threat to Dick's tone, and no danger. It's just a question. So I grasp at the arm still wrapped around my chest and shake my head, answering in the best way I know to not have any miscommunication. I _want_ this. "Good," he praises, and I can feel myself ease out at the single word.

Because Dick is _Nightingale_ , the first Talon, and it's _praise_. I'm loyal to Bruce, but one whispered compliment in my ear and I know Dick would have me wrapped around his fingers. He's just so incredible, so deadly, so _perfect_ in all the ways I'm trying to be. In a lot of ways, his approval means more to me than Bruce's. I knew that was the case the first time he tested me. Bruce stood by and watched him tear me to bloody shreds, and only stepped in after Dick had decided that my defiance of what I was sure was going to be my death meant that I was worthy of picking up his mantle.

Bruce may have been the one to take me off the streets, but if Dick hadn't approved he would have killed me, and that would have been that. Dick has Bruce wrapped as firmly around his fingers as he does me, it's just less obvious.

I squeeze his arm, and press myself back into his hand as I twist my head down, stretching out the side of my neck. "Please," I whisper, clenching my thighs down on the leg he has between them. " _More_."

* * *

I rest my head against Dick's collarbone, unhappy with the presence of the shirt separating my face from his skin but unable to work up the energy to pull it out of the way.

Dick's got me wrapped up in one of the blankets we keep down here for combating shock or blood loss, cradled against his chest with his mouth pressing occasional soft kisses to the top of my head. We're in the chair in front of the computer, and I think I should be feeling something resembling fear — or at least wariness — because _eventually_ Bruce will be back, but I don't have the energy for that either. There isn't much of me that doesn't sting or ache, but I'm floating so high on the leftover chemical rush that I honestly don't care. It'll hurt tomorrow, and I'll deal with it then.

My calves are outside of the blanket, but I swear that's only the case so that there's room for Dick's arm. He's got it pushed up inside the blankets, between my legs, his fingers resting deep inside me and keeping me open. They're slick with lube, and every once in awhile he'll curl them or slide them in and out of me for a few minutes. Mostly, honestly, I think he just likes the feeling of having them in there. Being empty right now feels uncomfortable, so I don't care. It's a nice thrill in the back of my head, that even now that we're done with the actual sex Dick is keeping me spread open for him.

I've given up wondering how fucked my head is.

I start a little bit at the sound of an engine echoing through the Roost, and Dick gives a quiet, reassuring sound into my hair. His fingers pull out of me, and I tremble and make a sound too weak to be really protesting. He presses my legs back together, and gathers me into his arms a little more securely.

"Easy, little wing," he murmurs, after the engine noise has cut out. "Bruce is home; we can be a little more appropriate than me still being inside you."

I manage to tilt my head enough to get a view of the cave, which is why when Bruce jumps out of the landed jet I see it right away. He pauses for a moment, then pulls his helmet off as he heads for us. Dick doesn't say anything, but he gets to his feet to meet our mentor, holding me up against him in a bridal carry. I'm too tired to be embarrassed or angry about that.

"Should I be concerned?" is the first thing he says, dry and with an edge of tired resignation to his tone. I think Dick smiles, because Bruce's eyes narrow just a little bit as he glances down at me. He can probably see the bruises and scratches on my calves; Dick didn't leave much skin clear. "Dick, what have you done?"

"It's alright, Bruce," Dick says easily, over my head. "Before I took him upstairs, I just wanted to tell you that Jason is mine now." I swallow, as one of Bruce's eyebrows climbs towards his hair. "We had some fun, I like him, and I'm keeping him." Now he looks a little incredulous, and Dick laughs and leans down into me. He catches my mouth in a kiss, and even with Bruce right there I can't help trying to kiss back. I don't manage much. When Dick pulls back, after a few seconds, I can see him look up at Bruce with a _wicked_ grin. "You might want to delete the last few hours of surveillance for the Roost."

Then he's turning, carrying me away before our mentor can figure out how to respond. If he was even going to. I shift in Dick's arms, burying my face in against his shoulder.

"You hear that, Jason?" Dick murmurs, his arms tightening around me. "You're _mine_."


End file.
